Past Now Love

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There is no part of our land
that has been left untouched
by the ravages of our violence
and the blessing of our prayers,
existing together, all at once;
it can be the work of a lifetime
to sit with everything we know.
There is no life without history,
and no body without memory.
To walk is to walk with ghosts,
to breathe is breathe the story
we’ve brought to waking dreams.
Fear drives dark excavations,
Wonder brings back the light.
What’s dissolved, what remains,
what brought tears, our hope,
the fluid emblems of our lives.
May we find the love within us
to seek all those sacred spaces
marked with all of experience;
the silken threads and wisps
singing to us our past laments
as we find in them everything
we need to remember about us,
and our will to make it better.
 
– Tammy Takahashi
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Joy Now

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And once we round the bend?
Once all that the horizon is ours?
 
Is there something waiting there
grander than the vast open road
 
with its trees glinting in the sun
stone structures mounted for gods
 
Mountains just off to the side
ready to cushion your dreams
 
The clouds, too, shifting shape
always waiting to tell you a story?
 
May we not wait for what comes
but bring joy to everything we meet. – TS

Poem: Emergence

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Emergence

The shrine of the tiny island forest

allows entry after hurtling gales of wind

onto the bridge, until the threshold is

crossed. The gods have been pacified by

our perseverance, and remark on our

long-awaited arrival, like they have been waiting.

Dried yellow leaves hang from the gate,

slick moss skirts along a log once reaching

for the low-hanging sky,

dewy but never cold.

I fall in the face of beauty every time.

I touch my forehead to Earth in reverence for its certainty.

The fall deepens, my thoughts absorbed

like they are the cherished secrets

I have hoped they’d become.

Every step, a new wondrous accounting

of the ground’s ever-presence.

Wild life thrusts upward through

the obstacles we have made.

They will not be appeased,

they do not need our comfort.

The flower unfolding, in scarlet bloom,

never asking why, the tree’s broad

leaves receiving.

I dream of a field where we can sit

and eat the light and drink the little river,

of sitting in the garden, where the sun fills

golden space.

Maybe it’s true, that they’ve been

waiting these long years,

and now we’ve come.

The loveliness of clouds, white and suspended.

This is what the view wants to say:

I am you.

Steam rising over rocks,

a life force carved by love,

carrying the magic
of emergence.